“I hate what you did to me,” Sagan confessed as she punched her assailant.

Korac evaded. “Aww, baby. That’s mean. You were never this mean before. Has Tameka rubbed off on you?” He disappeared.

“Why? Don’t you like my best friend?” Sagan anticipated his next materialization and shoved the heel of her palm into his nose.

The Icarean General took the hit and stumbled back. With one hand over his nose, he said, “Let’s just say I don’t want her to give a speech at our wedding.”

Sagan lunged with the sword.

Korac turned to the side, evading the attack, and hammered an axe pommel on her wrist. Hard.

Sagan staggered, dropping her weapon with a curse.

Korac’s arms encircled her from behind and pulled her tight. One axe dug into her hip, the other on her shoulder, pressing the blade against her face. His presence surrounded her, overwhelmed her, trapped her. No, not like this. Anything but this. She broke out into a sweat, gritted her teeth, and swallowed her pulse.

The Icarean General purred against her ear, “Seems like you can’t stay out of my arms, My Afflicted One.”

Sagan closed her eyes tight and tried to steel herself against what she knew would follow. This close to him, she smelled the crisp winter of his skin and the fresh peppermint of his breath.

It was hard to admit, but Sagan wanted him. Even after all this destruction. She’d kept the braided lock of Korac’s hair, and even now she felt it in her skirt pocket. Yet, this wasn’t right and the way he held onto her said he knew it too.

So Sagan would play the game. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Fuck you.”

Korac chuckled maliciously as he drew the axe down Sagan’s cheek. She cried out when the skin submitted under the sharp silver, and blood flowed liberally from the wound. The entire time, the General kept his lips on her ear as he tested her limits with pain and pleasure.

“Love, why are you doing this?!” The desperation in her own voice made Sagan wince.

Korac breathed against her, quiet, meant only for her to hear, “If you come back with me, we can fix it. Just like that. No scarring.” The silky tone took on a hard edge. “But if you don’t, you’ll always have this to remind you of me. And when you tire of seeing it in your reflection, you can come for me anytime.”

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Nope. Sagan was done.

She stomped on his foot and shoved her elbow into Korac’s ribs.

With a grunt, he backed away to catch his breath.

Sagan grabbed the axe he held above her and landed a high kick square into his chest.

The blow forced him to release the axe to her. Korac growled in frustration.

Nervous about his retaliation, Sagan put a few meters between them and tested the feel of the axe in her palm.

Korac recovered too quickly. He straightened, towering almost a foot above Sagan. His sense of humor was unphased as he purred, “The reality is more enjoyable than the fantasy.”

Sagan confessed, “With you, this wasn’t what I fantasized about.”

Her honesty struck him, giving her time to assess him. Why wasn’t anything affecting him? No heavy breathing. No sweat. Not even pain.

In a voice wrought with yearning, Korac shared, “We thought about this day for so very long.”

Wait, there!

There was a tiny trickle of blue blood at the corner of his sinful smirk, and something in his silver eyes seemed transformed. They smoldered like melting pools. Korac tasted his own blood on his lips before saying, “The way you look at me…” He chuckled in that silky tenor. “You’re the warrior I wanted you to be. How would you tally this fight so far, Lieutenant General?”

Smoke polluted Sagan’s lungs. Even her eyes watered. This couldn’t go on any longer, but she just couldn’t resist a jab. She swallowed a dry lump in her throat, spun the axe once, and said, “You can’t seem to stay off the floor.”

Korac mirrored her axe spin. “Isn’t this familiar? How good do you think you are with that?” He inclined his head at her.

Sagan shrugged. “Feels right at home.” And it did thanks to his training.

His cold and bitter laugh startled her before he swung his arm high and threw the axe.

Sagan dove to the floor and somersaulted toward Korac. She straightened upright on her knees and plunged the axe with a strong two-handed grip. Her final desperate attempt to rid herself of his power over her.

Korac froze. His eyes went wide, the mercury in them shining. He lowered his gaze to his nightly lover.

Sagan’s chest heaved with her teeth clenched and bared. She refused to let go of the axe embedded deep inside his chest. When she heard him grunt, she raised her violet eyes to meet his.

This wound should be fatal. It should kill him. Xelan taught her so. The bone resisted until his chest gave under the honed blade. The apex of the axe penetrated his brain just enough to affect its functions.

Unsteady, Korac sank to his knees. His breathing grew more labored than her own. He grunted with every inhale. Sagan stared into his eyes. What was this feeling? Why…? With his blood spattered across her face and clothes, she searched for relief. She released the axe, gasped for air, and tried to feel something else through her exhaustion.

Korac reached for her with a pale hand.

Sagan recoiled and crawled back away from him. At last, his body fell lifeless to the side, his eyes unblinking.

She touched her face to wipe away his blood. What was that?

Tears.

They tugged from her heart. Another monster had died. That was all. Even so, Sagan cried for him. When the magnitude of it hit her, she fought not to weep. Loss. She grieved for Korac, or maybe just a chapter in her life closed before she was ready.

Kyle shouted, breaking Sagan’s reverie, “John, down!”

With shaking hands, Sagan forced herself off the floor, and took stock of the surrounding battle. Why the hell were these last four still fighting? Their leader was dead. Yet, they continued to attack her friends. They were fighting to the last man. Were they stalling for something?

A shriek resounded throughout the building and rang through Sagan’s ears.

Rayne.